The Wishing Fruit
by Rosa Cotton
Summary: Had it not been for those ethereal elves (everything which Bilbo wasn't) she would have never given it a second thought. But then things may have ended quite differently. Movieverse, bookverse, AU. No slash. Female!Bilbo.


Disclaimer: _The_ _Hobbit_, all characters, places, and related terms are the sole property of J. R. R. Tolkien's estate, and Warner Brothers, New Line Cinema, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, and WingNut Films.

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The Wishing Fruit

Looking back, Bilbo would have never considered it. Because from the beginning she knew her cause was hopeless. He was a dwarf, young, royalty for goodness' sake. And she was nothing of the sort, whom he simply viewed as a friend. It should have ended with her going through the whole quest sighing over her unrequited love, returning to the Shire without spilling her secret, never to see him again.

That ending, however, flew out the window the moment the elves entered the picture.

Granted, he was much subtler than his brother when it came to his interest regarding the fair she-elves during the company's stay in Rivendell. But Bilbo had seen. (_Looking_ was what she called it, not staring thank you). First there'd been the cautious curiosity, then awe, and finally unmistakable admiration. And it had hurt to watch, to realize that his attention could be caught by such creatures; how she absolutely had no chance.

So in that case, perhaps it was inevitable what eventually happened. The magical fruit tree in Beorn's garden… _What if, what if_ spinning around in her mind… The Took side winning out… _I wish I was an elf_… The fruit's bittersweet taste...

It was the fifth day since Bilbo's wish came true, waking up as an elf maiden– tall, slender, honey-colored hair straight and long, pale complexion flawless, though lacking grace (her extra height and flat stomach really threw off her balance). Whatever vague hopes she harbored for a happy ending had been spectacularly dashed.

Of course the dwarves exclaimed and shouted. Naturally Thorin roared, ranting and accusing. Gandalf hemmed and hawed. Beorn helplessly shook his head and wrung his hands (no one had eaten from the tree before apparently). But the absolute worst was that her dwarf (she was working on not thinking of him like that, honest!) had simply gazed at her with dismay, confusion, and worry, which had only increased with time. No hint of wonder, delight, or admiration anywhere to be found.

Currently Bilbo was alone in a quiet part of the skin-changer's garden, crying, curled into a ball under the shade of a tree.

_What a fool you are!_ a voice that sounded eerily like Lobelia Sackville-Baggins reprimanded her. _To actually think that he might finally look at you the way he had towards the elves. Because despite the fruit's magic, you are still Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, a hobbit-burglar, no more, no less. No magic can change that!_

The hobbit-elf wept harder. It was true. What had she been thinking?

_What indeed! Lost your head completely you did. And now the quest is in jeopardy! Why didn't you stop and think this through like a respectful, proper Baggins?!_

It had very difficult to miss the loud heated words Thorin shared with Gandalf and Beorn. They were at a loss regarding how and when Bilbo would change back to a hobbit – if ever. Sending an elf into the mountain to face Smaug was not what the dwarven lord had agreed to, and his displeasure knew no bounds.

Shame and guilt washed over the lass. She _hadn't_ thought about the company, the quest, the dragon when she had plucked that fruit and held it in her hands. That had all been forgotten in the moment. Instead, she simply thought about herself, and—

"Bilbo?"

The hesitant calling, voice gentle and concerned, caused the lass the choke on a sob. The hand touching her arm made her flinch. Of all people, he had to seek her out, find her.

"Bilbo!"

Her chin was raised by warm rough hands and she found herself gazing into dim blue eyes. She sniffled.

"Fili," she greeted miserably. Her attempt of a smile was pathetic.

"Don't let uncle get to you. He's simply worried. We all are."

"He's right though. I'm an idiot—"

"Stop it!" his voice cut over hers, harsh. His eyes flashed. "This will work out somehow. It will!" He nodded forcibly, braided moustaches swinging wildly.

Her shoulders sagged, eyes closing in defeat. "You don't know that," she responded quietly. "The others can't figure out a way to break the spell."

"We can only hope. Do not give up, Bilbo," he encouraged. "We need you."

A lump formed in the lass's throat at his words, and butterflies fluttered in her chest as his thumbs brushed along her jawline. Why did he have to be so wonderful? (And she so lost?)

"Never again will I wish to be other than what I am," Bilbo murmured.

"Why…why did you desire to be an elf?"

The lass's cheeks burned hotly. She chuckled humorlessly. "It does not matter now."

A tightening pressure on her jaw caused her to look back at Fili. His face was fierce, frustration and sadness warring in his expression. Suddenly he leaned up and touched his lips to hers.

Bilbo's first reaction was to freeze in surprise. Then she thought, _what curious ways dwarves have of offering comfort._ Followed by her third reaction, realization: Fili kissed her.

There was no chance for her to process that information, because almost simultaneously a sharp pain raced through her body, causing her to jerk back with a gasp. The world tilted dangerously, making her feel dizzy and sick…

"Bilbo, Bilbo!" her name was shouted, seemingly first far off, then nearer.

Dazedly, she sensed her labored breathing slow, felt the pounding in her ears lessen, and was aware of her fingers clutching grass. Slowly she opened her eyes, squinting against the sunshine, and looked up into Fili's astounded expression. They blinked at one another. Wait…she was looking _up?_

Wide-eyed she looked down, glimpsed beneath her skirt her feet…large, bare, furry once more.

"Oh!" Her hands flew over her short curls, chubby cheeks, and round tummy. An amazed smile lit her face. "I'm me again!" she exclaimed, scrambling to her feet. How was it possible?

Fili whooped excitedly, then jerked her into his arms and twirled her in a circle. Bilbo's joyful, breathless laughter was cut off by the prince's lips against hers again. Unlike the peck earlier, this was longer and more earnest. When it ended the lass could only stare at him in bewilderment, her tiny fingers tangled in the fur lining his jacket. While his face was red, relief and satisfaction was in his look.

"I didn't know dwarves kissed their friends like that," she commented.

Fili raised his eyebrows at her. "We are not friends."

She cringed at the causal tone and unexpected words. "Oh. So you not like me at all?"

Cocking his head, he blushed lightly. "You knew?" he said bashfully.

Bilbo pushed her hands against the dwarf's chest to step back, but his arms trapped her. "Yes, since the very beginning. Though you made it overwhelmingly clear in Rivendell."

Now he looked completely lost, brows drawing together. "Rivendell..."

She huffed, bursting out, "You like elf maidens!"

He blinked. "I do?"

"Yes! You admire them. I saw you! How you watched them, nothing like the way you looked at me ever no matter—"

"Bilbo," Fili's voice stopped her. She blushed when his lips twitched, his eyes lighting up with dawning comprehension. "Were you jealous? Is that why you wished…?" he trailed off, a full-blown smile spreading across his face and he laughed.

Mortified, the hobbit tried to wriggle free, only to be halted again by tightening arms. Gloomily she stared at Fili's chest. Why did he have to be so awful?

"I'm not your friend, I don't like you, and I definitely do not like elf maidens."

Bilbo's face crumbled. "Thank you, I'm aware," she stated shakily, fighting back tears.

Fili responded, "You aren't paying attention, silly hobbit."

That last part snapped the lass's wet green eyes to him and she glared. "I understand your feelings perfectly, Fili. I never suspected you'd laugh at me—"

The prince lowered his head, bumping their noses together. His smile was part long-suffering, part fond. "No. I mean I thought I was being terribly obvious. I mean you didn't need to eat the wishing fruit."

Just before he leaned in the rest of the way for a third kiss (this time happily returned) he whispered: "I love you, Bilbo, my hobbit lass."

THE END


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